


Ranking

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Collars, Dom/sub, Ficlet, M/M, Master/Pet, Mentions of rough sex, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 09:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis negotiates a merger.





	Ranking

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Noctis can’t lie on his back after Ignis is done with him—he’s sore in all sorts of places, but his rear is definitely the worst. He rests on his stomach, still flushed and slick with sweat, breathing hard beneath the thin sheet draped over his waist. The padded cuffs are still affixed to his headboard. Ignis’ glasses are still off, set beside the empty glass of water that Noctis drank down all at once. In a little while, Noctis will get up and move—he’ll let Ignis help him to the washroom, then stand under the shower head to clear away the evidence, though certain bruises will linger underneath his clothes for days. He likes it better that way. He wants to see Prompto’s eyes go wide at the new scratch marks all over his thighs. He wants to keep his collar high for dinner with his father, basking in the subtle reminder that his life isn’t quite so boring as it seems. 

His phone penetrates his lazy afterglow. Ignis wordlessly plucks it off the nightstand, passing it over without so much as glancing at the screen—Noctis wholly appreciates that trust. But when he has the phone, he shuffles a little closer to Ignis’ warm body, _wanting_ Ignis to see the conversation.

 _What should I wear tomorrow?_ Prompto’s asking, tacking on to yesterday’s long string of ‘Are you _sure_ it’s okay?’ ‘For the millionth time, _yes_.’

Too spent to think of clothes, Noctis answers, _Nothing._

_Haha. You know what I mean._

Noctis doesn’t. So he doesn’t reply. His pillow feels _so_ nice. Ignis has mentioned once or twice that his apartment furniture isn’t as good as his grand, king-sized bed was at the Citadel, but Noctis prefers it here. He can afford to break it, here. Prompto sends, _Should I wear my collar? Or should I, like... wear a different one for Specs?_

Before Noctis can even think of an answer, Prompto’s adding, _Not to replace yours or anything._

Then, _You know I’m still yours, right?_

_Like, Iggy’s super hot and all, this is so cool, but I still want to behave for you..._

“He seems quite eager to please,” Ignis drawls. He’s propped himself up on one long arm to get a better angle on the screen, lifting up the sheet up with him. He’s as bear as Noctis, and the sight of his naked chest temporarily distracts Noctis’ mind, even though he’s had full access to that gorgeous body for the better part of an hour. Patches of Ignis’ pale skin are still splattered with Noctis’ release, while Ignis’ is mostly in Noctis’ stomach. Noctis nods against the pillow. 

“Yeah, he’s great that way...” He can already feel a smile tugging at his lips, just from thinking about his boyfriend. Or, more accurately, one of his boyfriends. Personally, he enjoys Prompto in anything, and even better in nothing, but recently, he’s gotten a special thrill out of seeing his collar wrapped around Prompto’s slender throat. Ignis has fit a collar on Noctis once or twice, but on those occasions, Ignis treats Noctis more like a spoiled cat in need of retraining than the prize puppy that Noctis calls Prompto. So he asks, “Do you want him to wear a collar?”

“He should fit in yours, if I feel the need,” Ignis muses. The thought of mixing their two very disparate relationships like that should probably be a little jarring, but instead, picturing Prompto in _his_ collar just makes Noctis hot again. As exhausted as he is, given the two hours he was teased before Ignis’ clothes finally came off, he thinks he’ll probably be good to go again by the end of the conversation.

He tells Prompto, _Just show up in normal clothes. Iggy’ll tell you what he wants._

Really, it should be easy—Prompto and Noctis are casual fun, and Ignis is meticulously planned. He’ll take control and they won’t even have to think about it. But Noctis knows that Prompto’s nervous and excited, and he isn’t surprised to get more questions. _What if you guys give me conflicting orders? Who do I listen to?_

Another text hastily follows up, _I mean, obviously I’ll do what you want, but, y’know, if he’s like, kinda your dom, and you’re my dom, does that mean he’s the ultimate dom, or do I still obey you first...?_

“If it makes it easier for him, I can gag you,” Ignis muses, which makes Noctis blush brightly, grateful that his own semi-sub can’t see it. As though to quietly assert his power, Ignis reaches over to tangle his fingers in Noctis’ hair, lightly stroking back along his scalp. The petting makes Noctis’ eyes flutter. “Of course, you won’t give him any conflicting orders, I’m sure...”

As much as Ignis often calls him a brat and punishes him for things about their real life, Noctis finds it difficult to defy Ignis in bed. He agrees, still a little breathless, “I won’t...”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Noctis is rewarded with a gentle kiss that only breaks when his phone buzzes. 

_Are we both going to be his at once, or is there some hierarchy, or...?_

Ignis murmurs, “Perhaps we should have this conversation in person.” Which is probably a good idea. And sort of what Noctis planned. He hadn’t expected them to both leap at his tentative suggestion quite so easily and quickly. As always, Noctis takes Ignis’ words under advisement.

But then he makes his own decision, answering, _Just do what he says. If I want you to do something else, follow me, and if he doesn’t like it, I’ll bear the punishment._

_Punishment?_

“You don’t discipline your pet?” Ignis asks, fingers now dancing down Noctis’ shoulder, tracing idle patterns along his skin. “No wonder you two are so unruly by day...”

_I’ll be fine, Prom. We play different. It’ll be okay, okay? If you wanna stop anytime, we can._

_I know, I just... don’t wanna mess up or get you in trouble or anything..._

_You won’t. It’s not about me. This whole thing started with me wanting to see the two of you together, and I’ll make sure he treats you right. Okay?_

_Ilu, Noct._

Noctis grins at the blunt reply, automatically sending, _Love you too, babe._

“Oh, I’ll treat him right, will I?” Ignis chuckles. It snaps Noctis’ attention over—they hadn’t actually discussed that; he just _assumed_.

“Well... you won’t hurt him, right?” Which, said aloud, sounds like a ridiculous question. Ignis _hurts_ Noctis all the time, but only in the safety and sanctity of his bedroom, and only in the most _delicious_ ways. And Noctis asked for it, wanted it. Ignis was so gentle with ‘his beloved prince’ when they first started sneaking around, but Noctis kept begging for it _harder_.

Ignis counters evenly, “Do you want me to hurt him?”

Noctis quickly decides, “No.” Even though it seems a bit hypocritical.

“Hm,” Ignis hums. His hand slips down Noctis’ spine, teasing the dip before his rear, not quite sliding under the sheets. As much as Noctis wants to shove that hand lower, it’s probably for the best—it’s hard enough to think with Ignis’ hands on him, let alone touching him that intimately. “Perhaps you had best tell me the rules for playing with him...”

“Shouldn’t you ask Prompto that...?”

“I will. But I recognize that he’s yours first, as am I, and I will obey your wishes.”

That’s the funny thing with Ignis—at different times, in different ways, they both _own_ each other. But it is different with Prompto. A few rules do come to mind, even though Noctis’ playtime with Prompto is never as well organized as Ignis’ sessions. 

“Well... I don’t want you to be too rough with him,” he announces first, only to quickly qualify, “Not that you’re cruel, or anything. I like it when you’re rough with me—hell, I get off on it. ...But I don’t think I could stand to see anyone hurting Prompto.”

Ignis nods, instantly accepting it. Noctis knows that he can trust that. 

Noctis continues, “Let him keep his wristband on if he wants. He’ll take it off when he’s comfortable, but that needs to be his decision—that’s non-negotiable.” Again, Ignis nods, which is good, because Noctis would fight him on that point. 

Finally: “And tell him if he’s doing well. He won’t ask for it and probably doesn’t even realize he wants it, but I can tell he likes to be told he’s good. So... praise him a lot.”

Noctis expects a bit of pushback with that one, because he always has to _earn_ his praise from Ignis. But Ignis amicably agrees, “Very well.”

His phone stirs. Instead of a text, a picture loads, showing Prompto sprawled out along his bed, his blond hair a mess across his pillow, his body flushed and naked, his throat lined with the thick black collar Noctis gifted to him. The caption reads: _Can’t wait!_

Ignis comments, “Delectable,” then leans in to kiss Noctis’ forehead. “Thank you for sharing him.”

Noctis shifts closer to kiss him properly, then orders, “Fuck me until I pass out this time—I want to wake up tomorrow already.”

Ignis chuckles and listens.


End file.
